(no subject)
laughing hard as i douse myself in cold dishwater, clean and soapy, but hardly sanitizing, i can't help but wonder about the rooftops i burned to get to where i'm standing. on top of a pendulum, swinging rapidly and unsteadily toward tomorrow. looking down upon my idealistic versions of the people that i know and love. seeing them from above what they are, and understanding the difference between good faith and stagnancy. making myself mild tempered for the crowd and saving my cynicism for mediums made of trees. letting my pain out on paper in theory. i haven't slipped into my subconscious. i haven't gripped onto the feelings that boil. i haven't dipped my hands into anything warmer than this room.
i have to scream when i bleed because you are color blind. your haze and amazement. why am i still standing here soaking in myself? marinating in my every mistake. this is a costly affair, the payoff, the bribery. to tell myself that my stitched will heal in time, when i'm the one that keeps reopening them to see how my heart heals. how it recovers from self inflicted stupidity, moral integrity.
i've never bene angrier with myself for being a good person.
laurenb.
it's been time since i've written this way.
i have to scream when i bleed because you are color blind. your haze and amazement. why am i still standing here soaking in myself? marinating in my every mistake. this is a costly affair, the payoff, the bribery. to tell myself that my stitched will heal in time, when i'm the one that keeps reopening them to see how my heart heals. how it recovers from self inflicted stupidity, moral integrity.
i've never bene angrier with myself for being a good person.
laurenb.
it's been time since i've written this way.